


Beneath the Mask

by Hierarchical



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Danganronpa AU, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Medication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 15:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15799179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hierarchical/pseuds/Hierarchical
Summary: Kaede is the leader of her own resistance duringThe Tragedy, but they're running low on supplies. She and Maki have a talk about it.





	Beneath the Mask

_The Biggest, Most Awful, Most Tragic Event in Human History_.

_The Tragedy_.

It’s like Death, claiming lives routinely when its terrible scent of rancid airborne poison, fresh gunpowder or trinitrotoluene decides to make itself known, turning the once peaceful country of Japan to a war-zone unimaginable by any war or fiction author. 

Every day, Kaede feels her ears ringing from a bomb that went off right next to her or a rifle firing in the close vicinity—be it from ally or _Despair-ridden_ —and for the first time, she learned what genuine _hate_ was.

She hates how an era of suffering was caused by a simple schoolgirl such as herself, but she hates even more that it was her own upperclassman, Junko Enoshima, the Ultimate Fashionista, who she now felt nothing but contempt for.

She hates how she had to see family, friends—even her own twin sister—die at the hands of people-turned-monsters. She hates how this masterfully-concocted poison of a situation was able to kill millions all over the world.

But more than anything, she hates how the numbers in her resistance have dwindled down to only twenty, including the currently ailing, who are just barely clinging to the coattails of life.

The thought of losing anyone else brings about indescribable feelings, and they only became even worse when she was appointed their leader.

With great power, comes great trepidation, and this was no exception, but she manages despite only just recently becoming transitioning into adulthood.

She walks through her base—an old train station—constantly violated by the miasmas of garbage, dust, and unwellness. She passes her subordinates, greeting them with forced, phony smiles, masking the layers of depression and fear, and slight waves of the hand as a means to tell them, ‘Hello,’ and ‘Goodbye.’

And they all smile back with genuine, caring smiles out of admiration for their leader’s kindness and feigned gaiety, completely unaware of her acting skills.

Or rather, they all smile but one.

Maki Harukawa is the exception to this territorial rule. She only smiles on the occasions that pigs fly.

They joined around their resistance— _Seizon_ —around the same time two years ago. Back then, Kaede was _actually_ the starry-eyed optimist, eager to ‘save the world’ or ‘make it a better place again’. To ‘right the wrongs done by those who have done evil’. To ‘save the misguided’.

When she told Maki for the first time, her exact words were, ‘ _What a load of horseshit_.’

Even though it has been two years, those words still resonate within her. They sow doubts into her and fly in the face of whatever ideals that version of her held. And it is… scary, but to some extent, she believes them, even if from a pragmatic standpoint. Plus, she _knows_ she is in no place to try to do something like that with her current numbers.

Even then, the two of them mix like oil and water. Back then, disagreements were as frequent as an explosion down in Shinjuku or a gunfight breaking out in Tokyo, that is to say, very often. Even though being appointed ‘partners’, the two of them would rarely talk outside of combat, and it took them a century to even coordinate themselves properly in a life or death setting, only when it actually came down to it and Kaede saved her partner’s life with a well-placed bullet.

That day, even though they weren’t friends, they both held a respect for the other that could only be forged in the field of battle, but even then, they still were mute except for their greetings.

Their routine was the same. Kaede would wish her partner a good morning and Maki would always respond with the same abrupt nod coupled with that idiosyncratic, monosyllabic, daybreak phrase of hers that was a simple ‘Hi.’

Only, this morning was different. It was not Kaede who spoke first to Maki, instead, it was the reverse.

“Akamatsu,” comes a familiar, acrimonious, near-monotone voice.

It catches the Ex-Ultimate Pianist off-guard a little, but she turns on the heel of her combat boots and her hands go into the warm pockets her burgundy jumper.

“Harukawa.” Kaede dons another one of her infamously-falsified grins. “Good morning.”

“Hi,” she responds, but instead of a neutral expression, she wears one of her distinctive pouts. The ones that come whenever she was upset about something. Kaede isn’t even awarded the time to ponder whatever wrongdoings she had committed with how quickly Maki’s next words come. “Can we talk about something?”

Kaede nods in response. “Sure, we can. What would you—?”

“Meet me in your room in a few minutes. Don’t be late,” she warns, shoving a hand half-concealed by the cuff of her sweater in the blonde’s face before storming off in the direction of the pianist’s room.

A sigh escapes the pianist’s thin lips. Her eyes carefully watch Maki, taking note of her lithe form as she hurries up the no-longer-functioning escalator to the convenience store-turned-bedroom where Kaede resides. Even from that distance, she notices that the black-haired girl’s body seems more tense than usual. It was at that point, Kaede contemplates what she could have possibly done; which unrighteous, unleaderly sin she could have committed to aggravate her _this time_.

Kaede finishes her business around the base before going up the escalator herself to the second floor. Usually, other members preferred to stay around the lower regions in order to spot any passersby, usually with their hands clutching their knives tightly or index fingers planted firmly on the triggers of their pistols or revolvers, so all things considered, they had complete privacy.

Kaede hurries towards her bedroom, grabbing one of the diminishing bottles of clean water. She always kept it unlocked during the daytime in case she was ever needed by any of her subordinates in the case or an emergency, so she wasn’t surprised to see that the black-haired girl had made herself at home, sitting in a wooden chair in the corner of the room with her legs lapped and eyes narrowed.

Maki pointed towards the bed. “Sit,” she says firmly.

With no real reason or will to disobey, the blonde does as told, seating herself on the edge of the bed and staring Maki in her blood-red eyes. Two years of Maki’s glares renders them useless against Kaede. She sees them so frequently they’re commonplace, instead, she just stares back.

“Yes?” Kaede starts. “What is this about, Harukawa?”

Maki’s pale face is overpowered by a crimson coloration, but clearly not out of embarrassment or nervousness. Out of rage. Kaede watches, mildly nervous, as Maki’s face becomes cherry-strewn, eyes piercing into hers like blood-red daggers; the scowl on her face, the scythe that slashes what semblance of confidence she has left. But the expression doesn’t last long, and Maki soon manages to regain her cool, letting her face slowly return back to normal.

With a sigh, Maki begins to speak. “Have you counted our numbers?”

“Including both of us, twenty,” Kaede answers, lapping her legs and breaking eye contact. “I’m really sorry it’s come down to this…”

“Do you know what month it is?” is Maki’s next question.

“December.”

“And in December?” Maki raises an eyebrow.

“It’s harder to find food because our areas to hunt will be more limited.”

“And we’re _already_ lacking food, Akamatsu,” Maki spits, fingers pushing into her arms. “If this keeps up, we’ll have no food for the winter. The hunting party brings back less and less every day. We’re struggling to feed twenty. You know what we should do.”

Kaede shakes her head, her expression that of a stern mother scolding a child. “No. We’re a resistance. We are not raiders. We will not give into the _Despair Epidemic_ and steal from others.”

“Then we will lose lives. If you won’t do it, I will.”

“You won’t.”

“I am the Ex-Ultimate Assassin. I’ll do what I need to get by.”

“I’m telling you that you won’t.”

Maki stands up, and eyes red with fury, she shouts, “The people here matter to me too!”

This shocks Kaede more than anything. She just stares at her partner, completely dumbfounded, watching her attempt to regulate her breathing with intense inhalations and exhalations, watching her body tense even more to the point where she can see the veins faintly bulging against her neck, watching as her eyelids take life to twitch in an uneven tempo. All Kaede can do is stare. The words lodge themselves within her larynx and no matter how much she attempts to choke out a sentence—an apology—it’s like she has suddenly become mute.

Maki, on the other hand, starts seeing red. Her head pulses violently, as does the rest of her body, and unable to take the stress pains anymore, she falls back onto the chair, letting it rock on its back legs before bringing it to a standstill with her feet.

“ _Shit_ ,” she mutters, placing her palm on her forehead and turning her gaze to the tiled floor, a seething torrent starting to stream from her eyes.

The scene catches Kaede off-guard. Seeing Maki cry is an even rarer sight than seeing her smile, in fact, Kaede can’t recall one incident where this has happened in the three years that they have known each other. 

The blonde’s words finally push their way out of her throat in a croak. “Harukawa…”

“I don’t want to starve again, Akamatsu. I’m tired of starving. I’ve been starving for years. I don’t want to starve anymore.”

For once, Maki’s words are filled with emotion. Negative, but still emotion. Kaede was always sure that the day this happened she would crack a smirk or be unable to contain a giggle, but this time she can’t even process it. It’s something unimaginable, Kaede could never even think of the hardened Maki Harukawa being reduced to tears and actually sounding upset over something. 

Kaede’s toes touch the ground, planting on them firmly, her body tense and back arched. Sympathy piloted her in both mind and body. Kaede wants to jump up to her feet and envelop Maki in the kindest, warmest hug that she can muster, but then she remembers that Maki absolutely hates all physical contact in the first place. _Especially_ hugs. So, she refrains, falling back on her heels and sighing.

“We’re not… going to starve, Harukawa,” Kaede mutters shamefully. “Our hunting party is out currently; if we need we can always go outside of the safe-zone for food if we need, but we should have enough for the next few days. We need to have hope.”

“Hope hasn’t been getting us anywhere, Akamatsu,” Maki says in her usual caustic voice, drying her face with her sleeves. “Hope hasn’t gotten us food. Hope hasn’t gotten us clean water. Hope hasn’t _saved lives_. We have. We have by doing what’s needed to be done.”

“Harukawa.”

“Why are you so adamant about having morals in a world that has none?”

These words would usually leave no effect on Kaede; after all, she’s said synonymous phrases and sentences a plethora of times, and the answer was always the same. But this time is different. This time, Kaede is left in a deep contemplation after seeing Maki hurting, both in mind and body. She is left to deconstruct and reconstruct her own morality again like a child playing with building blocks.

Her bottom lip quivers as she opens her mouth to utter her ambiguous answer.

“I don’t know…”

Kaede’s words rewind and replay in her mind like a broken VCR or record player, tormenting her with the garish sound of her own equivocation. That was an answer she has never come to before, she wonders why she thinks so now. Maybe it was something about Maki’s devastating mien that made her reconsider. After all, she knew that hitwoman had disposed of the emotions she called rubbish long ago. 

She hangs her head in shame, mulling over what would be the next moral frontier she would need to cross to ensure the survival of her subordinates; if she would have to be no better than _raiders_ and _murderers_. Her skin becomes like that of a specter, her pupils as wide as saucers. And she shudders. She shudders in fear. Fear of the dangers. Fear of becoming someone she doesn’t want to be. Fear of _possible death_ ; of _losing everyone_.

Her chest tightens and the pain is unbearable, like a serrated blade being twisted in her rib cage, carving deep into the bone. It’s no surprise when the stream of tears come from her eyes with the force of a person viciously vomiting. Her hands instantly go to her aching heart, gripping her jumper as if it was the key to remove all the mental locks and physical pains she was currently experiencing, and then, she wails. A guttural scream that she’s sure would draw blood from her previously-malfunctioning larynx.

All Maki can do is stare. Stare and rue what she has caused as the pianist’s scream irritates her ears and blisters her heart. It’s indescribable how uncomfortable she is at the moment. She swore that her heart had chilled to the point where nothing—not even this—could affect her. But it does and it hurts. The sight of Kaede crying is caustic to her eyes to the point where they too begin to water. She wants to claw her eyes out so she doesn’t have to see that sight again. It reminds her so much of what she was like before and she hates it. She hates it and she never wants to see it again. 

The assassin begins to feel her blood boil and her head pound as if someone took a hammer directly to her skull, but nonetheless, her tears continue, lording over whatever fleeting anger she experiences. The only thing she can do is croak the blonde’s name.

“Aka…matsu…”

Her words are the ripple of water against a crashing wave. Kaede doesn’t grace her with a glance or one of her feigned smiles, instead only the memorable vision of her unsightly weakness. Maki has dealt with plenty of crying orphans before in her life before _The Tragedy_ , but it has been all too long that she’s felt sympathy—no, empathy—like this in a long time.

Too long.

It has been so long, in fact, that comforting someone out of those emotions is an alien concept to her. She had thrown the knowledge of that away with other childish things because then, life was less about offering aid to others whenever they needed. It was about self-preservation. It was about holding out a pistol as the first course of action; everything else would come later. It was about closing your hand into a fist before holding it out as a kind gesture.

But now it’s not, and Maki is so… _scared_.

No, not scared. _Horrified_. She is horrified by her feelings and how they hurt her. She is horrified by the long-forgotten aching sensation in her chest and the unfamiliar fluid pouring from her eyes like the spring rain. She is horrified by her the conflicting feelings she gets from her bleeding, thrilling, stone-cold heart. 

But above all else, she is afraid of _failure_. 

She loathes the possibility that she could have to leave Kaede—her partner—like this. Sad, alone, afraid, all because of words _she_ said. The assassin’s toes press against the floor and she rises to her feet, her eyes fixed on the mess she created. Then, she walks as if she was a toddler taking her first steps. Slow, rickety steps that bring her closer to the visual abomination she has created; each coupled with their own worsening version of torture as the pianist comes more into focus.

Until they finally were right in front of each other, staring at each other through liquid-obfuscated eyes that hid the true atrocities of their crying faces. And then, Kaede does the strangest thing that Maki could never understand. Like always, she smiles. A bittersweet smile, but a genuine one—the first genuine smile in a good while.

Maki can’t understand why. Even in the midst of suffering… she could still wear that idiosyncratic smile. Even though Maki can tell it pains her, she wears it like it’s an obligation; like it’s her duty as Leader. It’s awe-inspiring to the assassin, but absolutely petrifying in a similar way.

Slowly, the pianist leans forward and wraps her arms around the girl’s waist, hugging it tightly with a willingness to never release, completely forgetting about Maki’s dislike for being touched. She presses her head into Maki’s sweater, permanently imbruing it with this disheartening memory. 

Maki, fossilized, just lets herself be Kaede’s comfort. She thinks shouldn’t feel obligated, but she does and in truth, and she doesn’t actually mind it. Kaede’s arms feel… nice in ways she can’t exactly describe. It is like… the mother she never had comforting her in a time of infantile distress—only she was doing the comforting… 

Weird.

But not bad.

She lets Kaede cry against her for minutes on end, letting the girl completely drain her eyes onto the now-tear-marinated sweater. Usually, the feeling of dampness on the skin is irritating to Maki, but strangely enough, this time she doesn’t mind. She just lets Kaede cry. And cry. And cry as long as she needs to. Until she finally finished with a relieving sniffle and a wavy smile.

“I’m better,” she susurrates. “Thank you, Maki…”

“Maki…?” the assassin questions, shocked.

“O-Oh… would you prefer if I continued to call you ‘Harukawa’?”

“No… Just Maki is fine,” the girl assures with reddening cheeks.

“Okay. I think… I would prefer if you called me ‘Kaede’. Is that okay?”

Maki gives a curt nod. “Yes. It’s fine if you call me that… I don’t mind,” she pauses for a brief moment that’s an eternity to the blonde, “ _Kaede_.”

Kaede can’t help but chuckle at the dark-haired girl’s words. “Okay. Can you do me a favor and pass me my pills?”

“Pills?” Maki questions, slightly concerned.

“Pills,” Kaede repeats with a bit of a frown. “Panic attacks come to me pretty frequently and haven’t been stopping, recently. Talk therapy isn’t as much of a thing anymore. I used to get them back in school too before shows… or used to before I got over it. All I have is my makeshift Xanax-treatment whenever they come.”

“That doesn’t seem too healthy,” the assassin states, placing her hands on her hips.

The pianist simply pushes a sigh past her lips and looks at Maki with pleading eyes coupled with an unswerving gaze and a hardened expression. “ _Please_ , Maki. Help me just this once…”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” she mumbles to herself. “Stupid Kaede.”

The assassin saunters around the room, occasionally throwing glances at her leader in mild disquiet in an attempt to verify that she was indeed okay, but no matter who many times she looks to see the girl’s impudent smile, she never stops worrying.

She kneels and hastily rummages through the girl’s mahogany cabinet, pushing away layer after layer of clothing in trying to find the girl’s pharmaceuticals. 

“Which drawers is it in?” the assassin calls out.

“The one you’re in right now,” Kaede answers. “It should be beneath all of the clothing.”

“Got it.” 

Maki holds the pills up over her head so that they’re in clear view of Kaede and proceeds to stand up and run light-footed towards the pianist, presenting the pills with a stone-faced expression. 

“Here,” Maki says. “Do you need to eat or drink anything before you take them?”

“I used to, but I can just take them kind of plain now. I’ve built up a resilience. Plus, we don’t want to waste supplies. I’m fine. I can just take them normally.”

Maki doubts this and desperately wants to question it, but she lets it slide. She doesn’t want to upset Kaede further. She simply watches as Kaede pours two of the capsules into her hand, raises her hand and swallows them like a whale swallowing plankton.

“Better?” Maki asks.

“In time,” is the blonde’s response. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I brought this on,” Maki says, passing her gaze to the wall. “Would you like some privacy?”

“Huh? No! No! You didn’t bring this on!” the pianist reassures with a smile, waving her pill bottle in her hand. “And, uh, a little bit. I’ll just take some time to myself after that. I’m sorry you had to see that by the way…”

Maki shakes her head. “No. It’s fine.” The assassin’s eyes shut, blocking out the world around her and in an attempt to regain some semblance of calm, she sighs and reopens her eyes, fixing her gaze on Kaede. “I didn’t know you had it so difficult. I should be the one apologizing, and I am. I’ll leave you alone now.”

Having said her piece, Maki begins to make her way towards the door, still feeling mildly perturbed by her accidental debacle. For now, she just wants to give Kaede space; to forget all the wrong she has done today for now, but at the same time, she genuinely doesn’t want to. Even if she wanted to, she can’t. Because in the midst of the vast expanse that seemed to suck her dry of her tears and only served as a manner of debilitation, there was a slight twinkle. A glimmer of actual gaiety in hearing Kaede confess her gratitude and seeing her authentic smile.

“Maki,” a familiar blonde calls.

“Huh?”

Maki swiftly turns on her hell, but she is… surprised. She is greeted by Kaede—expectedly—but what followed was anything but usual. The pianist’s face is in full view, her features accentuated by tear-shimmering cheeks. She wears another one of her famous smiles, but this time, it’s complemented by flattering shades of red. Maki doesn’t understand it at first, but soon she does when she gets an awakening.

Before she knows it, the blonde’s arms and wrapped around her waist, and she’s pulled closer until she’s left with the faint taste of chemicals and a softness on her cherry-colored lips. Her crimson eyes widen, but Maki doesn’t resist. She just stands there, fossilized; not because of her aversion to being touched, but so her frizzling brain can attempt to process what just happened. Until their lips part.

They look deep into each other’s alluring pools, and even though Maki makes several movements of her lips, she lacks the audacity to just… say something; anything. So Kaede speaks first.

“Maki… I,” she breaks her gaze, grabbing her own arm, “thank you for this. For all of this. What you did for me means so much… I just wanted to tell you that I appreciated everything you did today.”

To that, Maki has no verbal response; only a nod of the head to show that she understood the blonde’s words. For some reason, she wants to turn Kaede’s head, grasp her chin and stare deep into her starry violet pools for as long as she can, but she refrains. She figures she should probably give the girl some space for now… and she herself needs time to process the strange, conflicting feelings she’s riddled with. 

However, even with all of that considered, her the sides of her lips pull upward to make an arc, and even though Kaede can barely see, she understands, turning her head slightly and doing the same. Only this time, it’s not forced; not formulated. Only a simple smile… a show of affection.

“I…” Maki finally speaks up, clearing her throat. “I’ll come by later.”

This time, Kaede is the one to nod, moving back to her bed and sitting on it. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” Maki says, before finally exiting.

Immediately she shivers, but she doesn’t feel bad. It’s so strange. Her cheeks are red and she’s sweaty, but she’s not sick. She feels hot and cold at the same time. It’s unexplainable! But… it doesn’t feel bad. It doesn’t feel bad at all. In fact, she feels like a flower in full bloom, taking in the spring sun’s rays after an acrimonious winter. 

She feels _happy_ about what just happened. 

She can’t explain the unconcentrated gaiety she feels, but she just _feels it_. For a second, she wonders what it is. Friendship? Love? She isn’t the best person to know, she isn’t exactly sure, but she knows after that she definitely feels… _something_ for Kaede.

But she figures she’ll figure it out another day. After all, she has things to do today. She’s better than a raider. She figures she needs to reclaim her lost morals, even if the world she lives in has none. The first step: finding a way to get food for the coming days. Non-lethally of course.


End file.
